


Painted Lips

by supersleepygoat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fear, Gen, Inappropriate touching, Panic, clown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 11:59:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16994607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersleepygoat/pseuds/supersleepygoat
Summary: The Reader is Sam and Dean’s little sister. She goes to a fun house on Halloween but has a not so fun run in with a clown. She is reluctant to tell her overprotective brothers what happened but sometimes the truth is unavoidable.





	Painted Lips

“Come on! You’re always so serious. Just come with us and have some fun for once in your life!” a perky blonde named Abby says as she pulls on the sleeve of your flannel.

“I can’t… my brothers are-” you try to reason but the blonde spitfire interrupts you.

“Ugh screw them! It’s Halloween! Your brothers can handle one night without you. A little teenage rebellion will do you some good!”

You are losing both this battle and your internal battle. The temptation to give into Abby’s request is winning dominance. Since inheriting the Men of Letters bunker, you have been able to stay enrolled in one high school for the entire year. This means you could actually makes friends, real friends. The lure of being a regular high school student, even for one night, is too tempting to pass up.  

Your new friends were asking you to celebrate Halloween with them by going to one of those ‘haunted’ houses. It was the type of place in which people in costumes jump out at you as you make your way through a maze of dismembered limbs and ‘blood’ soaked walls. You are reluctant to go because, even as a kid, you were never too into Halloween. Being raised a hunter, you learned quickly that the creatures of the night were nothing to be celebrated. But tonight, tonight is about having fun – being a kid for once. You want one night away from monsters and death. 

Your brothers will understand, hopefully. 

You nod your surrender to Abby and she squeals with excitement as she pulls you over to her boyfriend’s truck. There is another couple in the backseat and Abby introduces you to everyone.

You shoot Sam a quick text telling him you’re going out with your friends. You opt not to text Dean. He is usually more restrictive about letting you go places alone, especially since he got that stupid mark on his arm. Luckily, you get a quick reply from Sam. He tells you to have fun but also reminds you to be careful. 

You put your phone away and enjoy the moment. The music is too loud. The girls are overly giggly and the boys are trying a bit too hard to look tough. It is perfect. For the first time in a long time you feel like you’re able to act your age. There’s no danger. No blood. No demons. No Mark of Cain. There is only a sweet distraction from your secret life. 

The truck pulls into the parking lot of a large warehouse. There are other rowdy teenagers out front and ‘scary’ music playing in the background. You’re in the right place. 

Inside the building, your senses are overloaded. Heavy metal is playing over the speakers just quiet enough that you can still hear the screams of other patrons. The employees have overly gory makeup and the whole building reeks of stale popcorn. It’s cheesy and terrible. Yet, oddly thrilling. Even as a hunter, you found yourself clinging to your friends in a mixture of laughter and fear when a bloodied nurse jumped out at you while you were buying your tickets. 

Unfortunately, this fine establishment had a rule that only two people could go through the maze at a time. Seeing as how you were kind of tagging along on a double date, as the fifth wheel you offered to walk the house alone. Your friends tried to protest. But, you are a real-life hunter after all, you could easily handle a few jump scares from guys in masks. It would take more than papier-mâché skeletons and red corn syrup to get under your skin.  

As you walked around the open floor plan of the compound, waiting for your turn to go through the house, you could feel someone staring at you. Turning around, you noticed that across the room there was a clown standing very still. You thought he was a statue until his head quirked to the side and he waved at you. You smile and wave back. The guy was creepy, you’ll give him that. But, unlike Sam, clowns had never scared you. You never found them funny or amusing but you weren’t scared of them either.  

However, this clown took his job a little too seriously. He is being paid to elicit screams from paying customers but that’s not what he was doing to you. He is using a different scare tactic. He never jumps out or yells at you. He simply watches you. Staring. Pointing. Smiling. If you weren’t so unsettled, you may have been impressed by his dedication.  

It seemed like it was his mission to make you squirm. You figured you looked like an easy target, alone and helpless female. You scoff to yourself. If only he knew the truth. 

Since you were walking around alone, maybe he was just trying to make you feel included? You decided to stop yourself from psychoanalyzing the clown’s motives. You were just excited for this to be over so you can meet up with your friends on the other side. 

As the night grew on, you were getting more and more anxious under the clown’s scrutinizing gaze. 

He wore a torn black and white striped suit that looked two sizes too small to fit his large frame. It wasn’t until he came up behind you, did you realize just how large this man was. He was broader than Dean and even taller than Sam. You swallowed the lump in your throat and smacked his hand away as he attempted to run his fingers through your hair. That was too far. You thought there were rules that prevented the actors from touching the customers. 

You were too unnerved to say actual words. You know you should have told him fuck off but his sly smile stole your words. 

You run over to the opening of the fun house as your number was being called. It was your turn to go through, finally. Never had you thought that you’d be relieved to go into a haunted house alone. At least you’d get away from that freaking clown. 

Unfortunately, he had other plans. Following you to the entrance, the clown grabs your wrist with bruising strength and attempts to pull you into the maze. You firmly plant your feet and pull back in the opposite direction. But, he doesn’t let you get far.  You look to the ticket holders for help but they merely laugh as if this is a joke that you’re not in on. The clown grabs you with both hands and drags you inside. 

The entrance is pitch black. All you can feel is the tight grip he still has on your forearms. He lets one wrist go. He uses his now free hand to slip an arm around your waist. He pulls your back up against his chest and pins your arms to your side. One of his hands starts creeping under the hem of your loose fitted t-shirt. You try to push yourself away. But, when you feel his lips lower toward your exposed neck, you freeze. Your limbs are rigid. The only reaction your body provides is an erratic and pounding heartbeat.

His breath is warm on your skin. You want to recoil but you cannot move, both from the force of his hold and your own lack of voluntary motor control. 

His hand reached further up and under your shirt. You feel his thumb pushing under the wire of your bra as his fingers grip your ribs. The moment his painted lips touch your pulse point and his tongue traces along your vibrating flesh, your hunter training kicks in. 

You clearly hear Dean’s voice break through into the darkest corners of your mind in which you have retreated: _if you’re ever in trouble, kid… kick the bastard in the head then call me or Sam._ _We’ll take care of it._

Thinking of your brothers reminds you that you are a Winchester. The strength of your name overrides your fear. 

You clutch the clown’s warm hand that is still squeezing your forearm. You twist it backwards until you hear something snap. You’re not sure what exactly snapped. But whatever it was, it was enough to make the clown grunt in pain and release his hold over you.

You run. You keep running. Under any other circumstance, you could get through this  _ fun _ house maze without a problem. But now… now every time you make a wrong turn and run into a zombie in a strait jacket or a room full of hanging doll heads, you feel the tears grow thicker in your eyes. 

You are free from his clutches but your heart rate only increases. Your breaths are getting harder and harder to grasp. Every corner seemed to lead into another creature or another dead end. You don’t know if he is looking for you or coming back to find you. There were no exit signs and the distant screams of other customers make your stomach drop.

You look around with wide eyes but there was no way out. No one to help you. 

With quivering hands, you pull your phone out to try calling your brothers. No Service. You slide down the wall in defeat. The buttons on your phone are blurring due to unshed tears. You lock your phone and clutch it tightly to your chest. 

“You’re a Winchester” you outwardly remind yourself. It gave you strength once and you hope it will again. 

You raise yourself from the floor, knowing that your brothers aren’t coming for you. You have to keep moving. You have to get yourself out, somehow. 

There are recordings of maniacal laughter and revving chainsaws that blare through the surrounding speakers. That, in addition to the strobe lighting, clouds your ability to think straight. You turn a corner and are met with another sign that reads, ‘Dead End’ with a fake body lying on the floor beneath it. You groan with nervous frustration and go to turn back the way you came. You turn around too quickly. Your body collides with a large wall of muscle and you tumble backwards onto your butt.

Too afraid to look up, you let the tears fall freely. You tried crawling backwards away from the looming figure. When the person bends down to touch you, you let out an anxious whine. You know screaming is pointless. Since your arrival at this  _ fun _ house, there has been a constant litany of screams. No one would know the difference between your screams of terror and their screams of laughter. 

However, when the man in front of you touches your arm, it is a very gentle and familiar touch. Not at all menacing. 

You risk a glance upward and see Castiel crouching beside you. His eyes are narrowed with concern and his head is tilted with curiosity. A sense of relief washes over you. You spring up to wrap your arms around his neck and squeeze your eyes shut. When you open them again, you’re standing in your bedroom at the bunker. You let go of Cas and cast your eyes to the ground. 

“How did you know... why did you...” you cannot choke out a full and coherent sentence. You try, but fail, to steal your voice and swallow a sob. “How did you find me?” 

“I heard you, Y/N. You prayed to me,” he answered in a gruff yet comforting voice. 

“No, I didn’t… I don’t remember-” 

“Your prayers were nonverbal but I heard them nonetheless,” he says a little more softly. Castiel examines your tear stained cheeks, “Let me get your brothers… they may be more equipped to handle the emotionality of your situation.” 

Cas turns to leave but you grab his arm, “Please don’t… I’m- I’m fine,” you try to reassure him but the trembling hand on his arm gives you away. 

“Dean and Sam can help you. They’ll want to help you.” 

“I don’t need their help! I’m a Winchester. It takes more than a man in a stupid costume to break me. I’m a Winchester. I’m not weak.” 

“Y/N, there is no weakness in fear. What is important is how you handle that fear.”

“Cas, please,” you resort to begging him. If you’re are forced to face your brothers, you may lose any composure you have left. They will get angry, try to protect you, and probably get themselves into trouble in the process. You’re Winchester. You can handle this on your own. It’s not like anything  _ really _ happened. 

Cas just nods solemnly. “I will not tell your brothers. But, I think you should… when you feel comfortable.” You nod silently in response. “Would you like me to stay with you. We could watch the Netflix and you could-” 

You smile at Cas but cut him off, “I appreciate it. I really do. But I think I just want to shower and go to bed. But I’ll talk to you in the morning?” 

Cas hesitantly relents. He reminds you that he doesn’t sleep so if you need anything during the night, he will be there for you.

He turns to leave your room but you grab his arm once more. Before he can say anything, you wrap your arms around his slim waist and bury your face into his chest. He does not reciprocate the hug right away, but instead, places a firm hand on your upper back. He holds you in this comforting position for as long as you need him to. 

“Thank you, Cas,” you say into his chest. His trench coat muffles your words slightly but he can feel your appreciation more than hear it. When you pull away he kisses the top of your head. The uncharacteristically affectionate gesture makes new tears prick the corners of your eyes. He squeezes your hand and gives you a warm smile before slipping out of the room. 

Finally, alone. You thought that’s what you wanted but now you aren’t so sure. You text your friends to tell them your brothers came to pick you up and they shouldn’t wait around for you. They’ll probably be annoyed with you but you don’t have it in you to care right now. 

You head to your en suite bathroom and strip out of your clothing. You notice the beginnings of nasty hand shaped bruises forming on your arms. You sigh to yourself and try swallowing the newly formed tears. The tremble in your hands return as you adjust the temperature of the shower. 

Your shower was long and scalding. You rubbed your neck and ribs raw. The skin over your pulse point almost broke under your efforts. But, it still feels contaminated. 

You were drying yourself off when you heard knocking on the bathroom door. 

“Y/N/N? Hey, Cas said you’re back and he picked you. What’s up, kid?” Of course, Dean couldn’t just leave you alone once he found out you came home early.  

“Nothing, I just got tired.” 

There is silence on the other side of the door. Dean doesn’t even have to look into your eyes to know when you’re lying to him. “Get dressed and meet us in the kitchen. It’s movie night. It’s your turn to pick, we waited for you.”

“Dean, I’m not-”

“Ten minutes,” his voice is harder now. The demand is clear. 

“Okay, ten minutes.”

You stall for as long as possible. You throw on a flannel you stole from Sam a few months back. The sleeves are long enough to cover your already bruising arms. You take a deep breath and leave your room. You hate lying to your brothers. But, it’s better to go and tell them you’re not in the mood than it is having them come looking for you again. 

When you enter the kitchen, both brothers are milling about. They are preparing snacks for the movie. Cas is standing in the corner of the room watching them with perplexity. He looks so formal and out of place comparatively. 

“Hey, kid!” Sam greets when he notices your arrival.

You pull on your sleeves and offer him a shy smile. Sam’s smiling features falter at your response but you cast your eyes over to Cas who nods encouragingly at you.

Dean turns around from his task of emptying popcorn into a bowl. “It’s your night to pick the movie, Sweetheart. I know I’m not usually one for chick flicks but what do you say we put in Moulin Rouge and see if we can get Sammy to cry again?” Dean tries joking because he remembers how sullen your voice sounded through the bathroom door. 

“I did not cry! But even if I did… excuse me for having a heart, you emotionless jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean says as he throws a piece of popcorn at his brother.

The last thing you want to do is put a wet blanket over their brotherly banter. So, you decide you should excuse yourself now, before you drag their mood down with yours. “Listen, guys… I’m kind of tired tonight, so I think I’m just going to get a raincheck on movie night, if that’s alright?” 

“Nope.”

“Dude!” Sam chastises his brother, “You can’t force her to stay awake just to watch a movie with us.”

“That’s not it, Sammy. Something's up with her, I can tell.”

You narrow your eyes at your eldest brother. He has always been able to read you like a book, ever since you were a kid. You hated it then and you hate it now. 

“I’m fine,” you say barely convincing yourself. 

Dean is about to start an interrogation when Cas speaks up on your behalf, “Let her go, Dean.”

Dean looks back at Cas who merely shakes his head. You take Dean’s momentary distraction as an opportunity to try and slip away. You turn to leave but Dean catches your movement. He crosses the room and grabs your arm to stop you. Your shriek of pain surprise everyone in the room, everyone except for Cas. Dean releases you as if your skin was fire. 

Dean looks back at his brother whose wide eyes mirror his own. He looks to Cas who is crossing the room to stand by your side. Cas takes your hand and his gentle touch coaxes your sleeve up. You pull away and motion your eyes in you brothers’ direction. You don’t want them to see. But Cas’ soft eyes make you feel safe. You let him roll your up your flannel. 

Sam and Dean are now hovering over you to examine why their baby sister cried out in such pain. It is too soon, so the marks have not yet turned colour, but the Winchesters are all too familiar with bruises. They know exactly how bad your arms will get. 

Sam carefully takes your other hand and you allow him to roll up that sleeve as well. When the same types of marks are seen on both arms, Sam’s jaw ticks as he attempts to reign in his angered worry. Dean makes no such attempts. 

“What the hell happened?” you know he is not angry with you, but the venom in Dean’s voice makes you recoil all the same. Sam notices your reaction and lets go of your arm to place a placating hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean shrugs him off and steps closer to you. 

You think about how to best explain what happened, without setting your brothers off. But, all you can do is stammer out incoherent syllables that barely mimic words. 

You look up at Cas, silently asking him to zap you far, far away from you brothers. He must have misread your look because he says the worst thing possible, “She was attacked.” 

Sam’s back straightens and his fists clench. But what you see from Dean is exactly why you didn’t want to tell them anything. The mark on his arm started to burn red and his face was utterly steeled with rage. 

“Who?” the question is calm yet forceful.

“No one!” you try to deescalate the situation.

Dean looks over to Cas expectantly. 

“A man dressed in clown costume, at the local Halloween festivities,” Cas admits for you.

“Cas!” your tears are threatening to fall once again. 

“I know this is not my story to tell, but Y/N… they deserve to know. And more importantly, you deserve for them to know, so they can help you.”

Before you can respond, Dean is pushing his way out of the room. The mark is driving him forward even though he doesn’t know where he’s going. There cannot be  _ that _ many men dressed as clowns in the city of Lebanon. He has no problem cutting open each one until he finds the one who hurt his baby sister. 

“How is  _ this _ going to help?” you beg Cas as you watch Dean storm away. 

“Dean!” Sam runs after his brother and pulls him back by the shoulder. 

“Don’t try and stop me, Sammy. Either you come with me or you get out of my way. Those are your only options.”

You stand behind your brothers in fear. Sam, always the voice of reason, actually looks like he’s considering Dean’s offer.

“Cas!” you cry hoping the angel can talk some sense into your vengeful brothers.

Cas steps toward the fuming Winchesters. “Perhaps you did not hear me, I said a  _ man _ attacked her. A human. Not a monster. You do not harm humans.”

“Oh, we heard you. But anyone who leaves marks on our little sister is a monster in our books,” Dean says casually. Sam gives a curt nod of agreement. 

“Enough!” you shout loud enough to catch even the dead’s attention. “You don’t even know what happened! It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just a couple bruises… Cas can make them go away and then everything will be fine!” You hate how instead of curling up in bed with your favourite book to distract yourself, you have to quell the murderous glint in your brothers’ eyes. 

Sam and Dean notice your quivering lip. They see the way you cling to the sleeves of your flannel to stop your hands from shaking. “It’s not that simple and we both know it, Y/N,” Dean says reading into you once more. 

“Maybe not. I don’t know who was underneath that makeup but I know he was human.”

“That doesn’t matter!” Dean bellows as if  _ you _ are the one missing the point. 

“It does!” You reign in your shouting, “It does matter Dean, it will always matter. We don’t hurt people.” 

The tears that are now staining your cheeks pull Sam out of his anger-induced haze. His clouded mind returns to reason. You don’t want vengeance but the fear in your eyes tells him that you need peace of mind. Sam puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Sam gives him a look that you don’t quite understand but it makes Dean back down instantly. 

Sam walks back over to you and envelopes you in a secure embrace. “Where were you tonight, kid?”

The security of Sam’s arms loosens your tongue. You tell him about the haunted maze and the large warehouse. Sam looks back at Dean then releases his hold on you. 

“Cas? Can you take Y/N back to her room and get her into bed… maybe heal her wrists?”

Cas stands tall and steps in behind you. “Of course,” he says before leading you down the hall.

“Wait…” you turn back to your brothers. “What are you going to do?” you ask mostly to Dean. 

“Relax, Y/N. Don’t worry about him. I’ll make sure he stays out of trouble. We’re just going to clean up the kitchen and then we’ll come in to check on you later.”

Sam flashes you a warm smile, it is a familiar smile that has always filled you with comfort. You can always trust Sam to be the calm in the middle of a storm. 

“Thank you, guys,” you say as you let Cas take you back your room. You let a small smile play on your lips. You are lucky to have brothers who will put your needs above their own angry and protective impulses. 

Once your bedroom door closes behind you, the Winchester brothers do not say a word. They simply turn and walk down the opposite hallway toward the war room. 

Sam reaches under the map table. He grabs one of the guns that are strapped to the underside. As he checks to make sure it is fully loaded, he hears Dean unsheathe a large and recently sharpened knife. 

“You ready?” Dean asks casually.

“Yep,” Sam clicks the safety off on his gun. “I’ve seen ads for that freaking haunted maze all over town. I know exactly where we’re going.”

 


End file.
